Groceries Thomas Desanto

Groceries

Thomas Desanto

Sinking my thumb into the gooey mantle of an avocado, I realize I am alone. I always feel stupid in the produce section—like everyone knows I’m lost. Enter, to the right, the most beautiful girl you have ever seen, (twirling), like a wild carnival by the strawberries. Some sweet jazz projected over the loud speaker & two ragged French voices singing Bonnie et Clyde. I always loved French but I guess I never learned to speak it. My tongue always felt so fat & American. I guess those two things clashed, like you did, into that bushel of plums. As they fell: I forgot you hated mushrooms—I’ll put them back. Do you think the lasagna would be better with fresh basil or should we just get the cheap shit? These are the things that plague my mind, lurching down each fluorescent row. We stumbled upon a dissected pig. Its hooves & ears so neatly veiled. Let’s just get the cheap stuff. There are so many different kinds of cheese. Later, we will cook the food. That will be another thing in itself. For now, I think about the starving children in Angola who just discovered that sucking on a rag soaked in gasoline cures hunger pains for a few hours. You can buy one for two dollars.